The Tremors of Tragedy
by FaerieBreath
Summary: A one-shot that takes place after about a year and Catherine and Henry's marriage, and considers the age old question of whether or not he ever cared for her. Some possible flashbacks from both of their pasts as well and a nod to the fascination and liberal application of poisons during the Renaissance. Enjoy!


Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Chills wracked Catherine's body. She couldn't get warm and was finding it difficult to breathe.

Her thoughts erratic, her stomach was turning…

Buried under the covers, she tried desperately to slow her breathing and calm her aching body.

It was just a year into her marriage with Henry and while in some ways it had been wonderful, it had also been trying.

The Spawn of the Medici.

The Italian Woman.

The Merchant's Daughter.

Names she heard each and every day.

If it hadn't been enough that she was an orphan and a commoner she was also the sole heiress of her family's fortune. Not the heir, no the heiress…a woman.

At least she had gotten out from under the shrewdly watchful eyes of her family, though she knew they still had enough in French court now to report back any act of sin or shame she committed. And now married to one in the line of the Royal succession, she was fairly certain she would never be able to let down her guard again.

Her stomach cramped once more as she tried to hold back her tears.

Even alone in her room she did not feel safe, never safe. Not here in France, not back in Italy. There were always wolves on the hunt, and they were out for her blood.

Arriving in France just over a year ago she was married to Henry, second in line for the throne faster than she could learn the halls of the castle. Henry was pleasant enough and visited her with reasonable frequency as a husband but it was still an arranged marriage and awkward at times.

The awkwardness was not particularly helped by her being away so much with his father Francois. She has spent much of this past year on a tour of the country with him.

He was pleasant enough and seemed to find her a amiable companion, but she has been away from the castle and her husband for much of their first year. She wasn't precisely sure if this was how marriages should be maintained but was reasonably certain that distance did not exactly help in establishing a bond of any sort, never mind a marital one.

Returning to court, Catherine was hoping to make a good impression with her husband. Tonight in fact was his brother's sixteenth birthday and she had been preparing for weeks.

Her gown, her hair, her shoes, her jewelry, she had even hired a tutor to try to refine her use of the French language. She knew she still spoke with the lilt of an Italian tongue which was a closer relative to the Spanish language than it was to French.

Despite all her efforts, the night has been waylaid by little more than her careless inattention.

She had been poisoned.

Not severely, and certainly not enough to be fatal if she was tracking the symptoms correctly, but certainly enough to cause her to retire for the evening prematurely.

Henry had actually begin to pay attention to her at dinner and seemed to be enjoying her company as well.

Scolding herself once again for her inattentiveness she thought back to the events leading up to her exit, noting that not one but several of Henry's companions had been paying particular attention to her tonight. Not an unusual even in and of itself, but they all seemed a bit more subdued in their usual games.

It may well have been one of them, concerned that she might get too close to Henry.

That they might actually have a chance to be happy.

She recognized her symptoms well enough as she had been poisoned like this once before. This time with absolute intention, but it was with the intention to train, not to cause distress.

Her city of birth was well known for their appreciation for the art of poisoning and she had been trained to both understand the basic applications of plants and herbs and how to detect the presence of such a nefarious substance. One freed from the convents in Florence and with the decision made to marry her off to the next most suitable suitor she had been put through a course of training to be sure that her deportment and readiness for any royal court in Europe was a finely tuned as her intellectual knowledge.

This particular test unfortunately she had failed the first time around, so her familiarity with the symptoms was all the more first hand.

Lilly of the Valley. A plant that was pleasant to the eyes, and to the tongue. It also had medicinal applications when used in the correct quantity and frequency, as well as the ability to poison.

If you were lucky, as she was, the poisoning was only to the point of discomfort.

If not the ingestions of the plant could also be quite fatal.

Only one other time had she felt so utterly ill, and that time the poison was not of the body but of the soul.

She was eight when the rebellion of Florence had begun. Her family, ever so practically, had escaped when the rebellion proved too difficult to resist with their current resources.

But their removal from the city and their stronghold there was not enough.

The rebels wanted a hostage, and she was chosen.

And why not?

A woman, the heir to one of the greatest fortunes of the time.

A woman, then girl, who was in the way of one of the others in her viperous family taking control of the vast riches.

She was as certain as she could be that they had just as well hoped she did not survive.

That first night was one of the most difficult.

The first few weeks were nothing to remember fondly, but the chaos that first night was of particular note. With such an exodus, the masters all leaving, and the remaining mistress so young that she had no grasp of what it meant to run a household, even for basic necessities.

Like a ship tossed about by the waves she did what she was told, went where she was taken. Prayed that she would not be forgotten.

That first night there wasn't even a fire in the hearth as the wood had not been properly collected and stored earlier, it was early spring and though the days had begin to get warmer, the nights still held a chill quite heartily. She wouldn't know where to look for wood if she tried. At least not enough to keep a fire burning enough for warmth and heat.

She was alone, and surrounded by people that hated her.

Huddled that first night in a servant's cot she pulled the blankets so tightly around her that she could barely breath. Shudders quaked through her body then too. Unsure of what was to come, feeling lost, almost without hope.

Almost but not quite.

She knew her family was not to be trusted, though they said so repeatedly as they all left.

She could still remember her aunt saying, "You are family and they will not leave you there forever."

But she had heard their pretty promises before.

She knew that she was alone, that she was considered a burden. She knew she was unwanted, much like she was here in France.

Yes Francois appeared to enjoy her company, but that could easily change at any moment. And Henry didn't seem to particularly mind her, but she certainly felt no security in their bond to even begin to hope for much support there, not when his closest friends seemed to despise her so.

Tonight was only a reminder of that.

She had managed to return to her rooms and change into her night clothes, but it took all of her energy to do so.

Somewhere along the way she had thought to ask for boiled water and a cup to drink with to be set out on her night stand. Flushing her system as fast as possible was the best she could hope for now.

When the door creaked open she barely heard it.

Her teeth had begun chattering from her reaction to the poison. The emotional turmoil of her most recent challenges and the past seeping in were not helping either.

When strong arms surrounded her and picked her up off the bed, covers and all she jerked to see who it was but did not get very far. She couldn't see much but it seemed as if she was being carried over to the fire, the moving body surrounding her stopped as it sat down on the nearby chaise.

Finally able to turn enough to look at her captor she found the smiling but concerned face of her husband looking back at her.

What in the world was he doing here?

His friends had done their best to distract him one their dinner was concluded. She had also gotten a reputation of being quite a respectable dancer and so had been 'tried out' tonight by many in attendance. The two combined meant that she had barely seen him since, and the one dance they had gotten to spend in close proximity she had needed to end early. She had held out at long as she could but to no avail.

Trying to still her quivering jaw, she finally managed to speak, but she was only able to manage a word.

"Henry?"

Noticing her struggle he gently moved the covers around her more securely and less in her face then shifted so he could hold her more securely.

"Yes Caterina?"

"Your Grace, forgive me but you should feel no burden to use my Italian name, I am perfectly content with the use of Catherine as it sits much more pleasantly on the tongue."

"And I would suggest otherwise my sweet wife, it sits on my tongue perfectly well in it's original form."

Blushing she ducked her head slightly and wrapped arms around herself trying to still her thoughts and her quaking body.

"You are too kind husband, for even coming to see me tonight. You should not feel burdened by this either, I believe I simply ate something that did not agree with me."

Not precisely a lie. It was something she ate, or more likely drank, though it was certainly not a result of a poorly prepared fare.

"As I understand from the list of symptoms your ladies have just given me, it is almost definitely more than a poorly prepared piece of pheasant. Perhaps even a malady intentionally caused by another?"

"I'm sure it is nothing of the sort your grace, French Court has been so welcoming of me that I…"

"Wish that you could return to Italy I am sure." Henry finished for her, not willing to hear any of her excuses on behalf of his kinsman who had in fact made much of her stay here a most unpleasant one.

"Caterina, I appreciate your desire not to sully the names of my countrymen, but I assure you it is in vain. I myself had the unfortunate displeasure of being poisoned by the plant when I was in Spain. My captors thought it might be amusing to send us on a scavenger hunt, disguised as a pleasant outing, only to find out that my brother and I had collected the tools for several days worth of unpleasantness."

Taking a deep breath to calm his own mind he continued. "I know that when I was in your position I would have liked nothing more than to have caring arms surrounding me to ward off the chills and the loneliness of being in a foreign land."

Leaning down to kiss her forehead he continued, "And somehow I don't think you would do this to yourself. I understand you are likely well aware of the adverse effects of such a plant?"

Tears were forming behind her eyes so she closed them to try and hide her weakness.

Her husband was either far too perceptive, or far too curious.

Or there was a third option, that he had perhaps begun to actually care for her.

What she had done to deserve his attention, despite all efforts to the contrary by nearly everyone else was beyond her.

Or perhaps this was just a delusion, and he was trying to coax her into a willingness to lay with him tonight.

In the innocence of youth she had given in to hope before too many times before, and it only ached worse when she allowed herself to believe such folly.

Henry began moving again, this time turning inward so that he was balanced lengthwise on the chaise and partly laying down, though with is long frame he was curled so far into the frame that she was nearly sitting in his lap sideways.

"Henry I don't think…"

"Good, at this very moment I would prefer it that way." He responded, silencing her, but still providing no answer to what or why he was doing this.

"Charlotte, isn't it?" He called.

Catherine was quite surprised he knew the name of any of her ladies.

When the girl, came over at his inquiry he responded simply. "Make sure the fire is well kept throughout the night. It will aide in my bride's recovery. And another blanket as well to cover both of us."

Now truly baffled, Catherine looked up at him with watery eyes with confusion written all over her face.

"You have just returned to me, and I have no desire to let you off on your own so soon."

"But," she hesitated before continuing. "But wouldn't this be more comfortable a…in the…?"

"In the bed? Yes." he again finished for her. "But I have no intention of doing anything but holding you tonight , or helping you to the chamber pot if necessary, and though I might convey the wrong message by lying with you where we have far more frequently…engaged intimately rather than simply laying together alone."

"So you don't want to…"

Grinning nearly from ear to ear his answer was equally typical as it was unexpected.

"Oh I most certainly do my blushing bride, but I also like to think of myself as a sympathetic and reasonable man. On good days perhaps even caring and thoughtful."

Turning his head he placed a light kiss on her temple before settling into a more comfortable position,

"Goodnight my Caterina."

Catherine was nearly stunned into silence. She returned his sentiments, albeit somewhat awkwardly, her mind spinning at his words.

To be attended to by one's husband with supposedly no other ultimatum?

Unheard of.

And yet tired a she was, she did not have the strength to put up even a token protest.

Relaxing into his chest Catherine gave in to the pull of sleep.

And she didn't feel as cold.

And she didn't feel as alone.

And she didn't feel like she would prefer to run, or hide…except into her husband's embrace.


End file.
